Nightlock
Makers of the game have never played.
The rich and healthy always get out fast.
The poor and frail forever pay,
Lives of the lost will always sting.
Entertainment and disgrace spew
Over the edge into the pit.
Arenas full of pain and misery;
Thoughts of nothing but survival.
Places of safety
Automatically tainted with
A sea of blood.
Twelve districts
And twenty four contestants
All in their own little island.
Entertainment and punishment
That was the key.
But they had a flaw with their logic
Nightlock berries.